


To Be or Not to Be

by BuckytheDucky



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Underage Drinking, awkward!Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 18:00:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12304584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckytheDucky/pseuds/BuckytheDucky
Summary: Fifteen-year-old Tony Stark is a senior in high school, which is bad enough in itself. After all, what normal teenager does four years of school in foursemesters? Tony, that’s who. But what makes it all so much worse is this pesky little crush he has on James “Bucky” Barnes, popular quarterback for the football team. Unfortunately, the crush doesn’t seem to be going away anytime soon. Fortunately, it may or may not be as unrequited as Tony initially thinks.





	To Be or Not to Be

Nobody looks twice at the scrawny brown-haired boy as he rushes through the halls, weaving around the many groups of students milling about between classes. It’s a rule of high school: Ignore anyone who isn’t you or your clique. Or at least, it sure feels that way to Tony. He’s had almost two years to get used to this kind of treatment, which has led to loads of practise at pretending it doesn’t bother him, but now he’s supposed to be the “big dog on campus”. Unfortunately, it seems he’s pretty much the only one who reliably remembers this fact. Even Pepper – sweet, beautiful, kind, loyal, sharp-as-a-track Pepper – sometimes forgets that he’s officially a senior; he blames that on his age (mostly; occasionally, it’s his behaviour).

Tony comes to a stop outside the Chemistry classroom, gasps for breath. Maybe Rhodey’s onto something with all those Talks about getting into better shape. Once he feels less like he’s dying, Tony shifts his bookbag further onto his shoulder, pulls open the door, and steps inside. He hurries to the lab table in the back, settling in on a stool with his bag on the table beside him, and waits.

The warning bell rings; students file into the classroom, followed shortly by the teacher. Right on cue, the last of Tony’s classmates slips through the door before Mr Erskine can close it. Tony keeps his gaze on the dry-erase board at the front of the room even as he tugs his bag off the table. Barnes makes his way to the only available seat, and Erskine launches into the day’s lesson.

Tony first laid eyes on James “Bucky” Barnes nearly two years ago. It was the second week of Tony’s freshman semester, and he’d been hiding out under the bleachers to avoid running a mile for gym when the Junior had appeared with a giggling redhead. Neither had noticed the gangly brunet; Tony had had less than five seconds to take in the perfectly-messy brown hair, stunning grey-blue eyes, and devilish, knee-melting grin before being forced to turn away by the sight of them making out. Unfortunately for Tony, his attempt at escaping without being detected failed miserably, and he’d endured three minutes of the girl hurling insults at him and threatening to go to Mr Kilgrave and complain. It got even worse when he felt his face burning and his eyes stinging. Bucky had stayed silent up until that point, but he finally spoke up when the first tear slipped down Tony’s cheek.

“C’mon, Dot, he didn’t do nothin’ wrong. He was probably here first. Leave him alone.”

Dot, thankfully, dropped it and flounced off after giving Tony one last contemptuous look. Bucky’d watched her go then turned toward Tony, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Sorry ‘bout her. Cheerleaders, man. Um, look, I’ll make sure she don’t say anythin’ to anyone ‘bout, y’know, this.”

“‘Kay,” squeaked Tony; his gaze flicked into Bucky’s direction before skittering away, and he pressed his back more closely to the support beam.

Bucky stopped at the very edge of the bleachers, looked back at Tony, and Tony’s breath caught in his chest at the sight of Bucky’s silhouette against a sky almost as blue as his eyes. “Don’t come down here again. This is usually the first place Phillips looks for kids skippin’ gym.”

“‘Kay.”

The next time he saw Bucky disappearing under the bleachers, it was a month later, and Dot was nowhere around; the guy with Bucky, though, Tony hated on sight, more than he did the cheerleader who’d verbally assaulted him.

“You got any idea what Erskine’s talkin’ about?”

Tony jerks from his thoughts when he realises Bucky is speaking – to him. The board up front has nothing new written on it, and Tony’s been too wrapped up in idle fantasies involving Bucky to really pay any attention to the teacher. There’s honestly very little that Erskine can teach him that he doesn’t already know at this point, but without context clues as to what lesson the rest of the class is even on, Tony’s the absolute worst person to ask for clarification. So he shakes his head and mumbles an apology. Bucky sighs, shifting away. Tony can practically hear the thoughts roaring around in the quarterback’s head, all about the pathetic kid who’s supposedly a genius but obviously can’t keep up with the coursework.

_Well, screw you, Barnes. I’ve done three years of school in three semesters, so… Yeah…_

God, but even his mental comebacks are lame. It’s a wonder that Pepper and Rhodey let him tag along, even though they’re eighteen already (well, Rhodey is, anyway – Pepper still has a couple months to go) and Tony’s not even sixteen. He shakes the thoughts away and opens his textbooks to the last chapter he remembers reading.

It had been a struggle, getting Dad to agree to even two years of high school. His plans for Tony involved the teen only attending long enough to be able to test out. Tony had been willing to accept his fate, the future Dad had meticulously plotted out, but Maria had stood her ground, demanded that Howard allow Tony the chance to have even a _semblance_ of normalcy during his teenage years. Then Dad went out of town for a business trip, and Maria did what she rarely ever did: She went behind his back, got Jarvis and Ana involved, and sent a detailed letter to Principal Fury outlining the class schedule she wanted her son to have. By the time Dad actually found out, Tony had been halfway through his first “year”, and it was too late for the fuss the Stark patriarch wanted to cause at the duplicity. Dinners were cold, quiet affairs for a month afterwards.

Lunchtime found Tony strolling through the shelves in the library, gaze skimming over the spines of the books as he passes. He has English next, and he still doesn’t have a book chosen to write his essay on. Ten minutes before the bell rings, he picks one at random and heads to the front desk to check it out. Ms Carter looks pleased at his choice when he shows her; Tony promptly shoves _The Things They Carried_ into his bookbag then spends the rest of the class daydreaming. His fantasies have consistently proven to be more entertaining than discussions over sentence structure. At least thoughts of Bucky don’t bore him almost to tears.

 

 

__________

 

 

“I'm not getting into this conversation again,” Pepper hisses over her shoulder, though her gaze is solely on Mr Coulson.

“C'mon, Pep, you have to admit –”

"No, I do not."

“–that it's at least possible, if not highly probable, that Ms Carter and Angie are totally boning.”

“Don't be so crass.”

“Just admit I'm right.”

Pepper admits nothing of the sort. Instead, she turns to face the front fully, hand flying over her notebook as she takes notes. Tony slowly tears a page out of his own notebook, scribbles down a two-word message ( _ADMIT IT_ ), and folds it up as quietly as he can. He slips it under the curve of her armpit. He can't see her face, but he knows she's rolling her eyes at him - she does that a lot when he's involved, which is just _rude_ , thank you very much, Pepper Potts.

A screeching alarm sounds, and Tony winces at the assault against his eardrums. Blaring AC/DC is one thing, but _this_? This is Hell. As if doing a choreographed dance, his classmates stand and head for the door. Tony allows Pepper to pull him to his feet. Coulson gives them a bland smile as they pass.

“Wait, wait, wait. Why does everyone have their coats?” questions Tony once they’re in the hallway.

“Scheduled fire drill.”

Tony watches the freshman who replied scurry off to stay with her class, then rounds on Pepper. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Pepper merely shrugs, the movement oddly elegant even with the thick coat she’s now wearing. Tony bites back a gasp at the first icy blast against his exposed skin once he steps outside. _I should’ve hid in a bathroom_ , he thinks as he trudges sullenly through the slush. The wind is sharp, painful, and Tony attempts to use Pepper’s body as a breaker, but the biting draft is coming from all directions. He shivers violently, pressing closer into her side.

“Give me your coat.”

“No. I’m cold enough without exposing myself to the air.”

“But I’m not wearing long sleeves, you are. You’ll be fine.”

“No, Tony.”

Before he can reply, a hefty weight falls across his shoulders, and he instantly feels a lot warmer. He glances down and freezes as he recognises the thick leather jacket. His tongue damn near glues itself to the roof of his mouth as he turns to confirm his suspicions. Bucky stands right behind him, looking all the world like the biting wind and near-freezing temperatures aren’t bothering him at all. Tony feels Pepper’s fingers wrap around his hand. The urge to scream and jump around like a five-year-old girl who’s just been told she’s going to Disney World is strong enough that, though he tries to stop it, a squeak slips from Tony’s throat. Bucky doesn’t mention it. He doesn’t say anything, really. One side of his mouth twitches up into a small smile, and he walks away. Once he’s out of earshot, Tony turns to Pepper, who looks just as shocked, and allows a strangled noise of excitement burst free. She grins widely, helps him slip his arms through the sleeves of the jacket, and kindly doesn’t judge him – aloud – when he buries his nose into the leather and sniffs at the scent lingering in the fabric.

Thankfully, Jarvis is well-versed in the art of not asking questions; he merely gives a quick look at the leather jacket that Tony’s now wearing, smiles faintly, and pulls away from the curb in front of the school. Tony sits back in his seat, fingers dragging lightly over the seams of Bucky’s jacket. Maria is on the phone when Tony comes through the front door; she glances up and waves an elegant hand in Tony’s direction. He knows the instant she realises something is different by the way her words falter and she stops all movement. He grins when she tells the person on the other end that she’ll call them back.

“If I’d have known that you’d join a biker gang, I never would have sent you to that school,” she jokes as she crosses the room.

He rolls his eyes and lets her wrap him in her arms. “Oh, please, like I’d even get asked to join.”

“Of course you would, just like you’d decline the offer, right?”

“Yes. I’m much too pretty to waste my looks on a biker gang. Besides, no helmet touches this perfect hair.”

“So what’s with the jacket?”

“Fire drill. I forgot mine, so somebody let me use theirs.”

“Does this somebody have a name?”

“Funnily enough, no, definitely not. The ‘Name’ line on their birth certificate is blank. It’s a mystery.”

Maria sighs as her fingers smooth out a curl behind his ear. “Tony…”

“Seriously, Mom. It’s no big deal. Just a nice kid, ‘s’all.”

“Okay, okay.” She presses a kiss to Tony’s forehead. “Your tutor will be here soon, so go on.”

“Okay. Love you, Mom.”

“And I love you.”

Tony flops backwards onto his bed, stares at the ceiling. The jacket creaks softly whenever he moves. He sits up and gingerly pulls his arms from the sleeves. The leather is soft, smooth, worn under his hands. He knows it’s old just by the feel – freshly-made leather jackets aren’t nearly as supple. The scent that’s clinging to the jacket is faint, but he can still make out a clean, earthy aroma under the unmistakable smell of Old Spice deodorant. A grin splits his face as he carefully carries the jacket to the closet and slides it onto a hanger as if it were a fragile, priceless treasure.

 

 

__________

 

 

Bucky smiles and settles onto his stool beside Tony. Feeling suddenly awkward, Tony blushes, ducking his head. His cheeks are still warm when he looks up again. Bucky's smile has dimmed somewhat, and his dark brows are furrowed over his startling steel-blue eyes. Tony takes a deep, steadying breath; his fingers clutch tightly at the leather jacket as he holds it out.

“Th-thanks. For letting me borrow this yesterday. You, uh, you didn't have to be so nice. So, um, thanks.”

Bucky shrugs. “‘S’nothing.”

_Of course it was nothing._ “Oh. Right.”

“Can I ask you somethin’?”

“Sure.”

“Do you… Would you go out on a date with me?”

Tony gapes, shocked and speechless. The longer the silence stretches between them, the more uncomfortable Bucky looks with the whole situation. Finally, Tony manages to find his voice.

“Are you serious? You realise I'm only fifteen, right? Why-why would you ask _me_ on a date?”

“Never mind, then,” mutters Bucky after a tense moment of staring at Tony. “Just forget I asked.”

“No, seriously, I'm being completely serious right now, which doesn't happen often. _Why me_?”

Bucky opens his mouth to reply, but Erskine interrupts with a warning to pay attention, before he can say anything. To Tony's dismay, Bucky turns on his stool to face the front. Though Tony usually loves staring at Bucky’s profile (seriously, _that jawline_ ), he doesn’t appreciate the fact that he’s seeing it now, in the middle of a Very Important Discussion. He shoots inquisitive looks at the quarterback throughout the rest of the hour, but Bucky doesn’t look back and disappears within seconds of the bell dismissing them. Tony stares down at the leather jacket still draped over his legs.

“Anthony, is everything all right?”

Tony nearly falls off his stool. He hurriedly rights himself and looks up at Erskine’s face. A flash of annoyance flickers through him at the concerned expression on the teacher’s face, but he pushes it down, forces a smile.

“Yeah, peachy.”

“Then you best be off before you are late to your next class, hmm?”

Tony hurries away without responding.

 

 __________

 

 The hallway is full of students talking, shouting, and Tony struggles to concentrate on memorising his lines for Drama class. His back aches where it’s pressed against the unyielding metal of his locker as he sits on the floor. Pepper is evidently running late, but Tony’s in no rush, not really.

It’s been two days since Bucky asked him out. Two days since Bucky has even so much as _looked_ at Tony. It’s sucked. Tony hadn’t realised just how accustomed he’s gotten to all the quick glances in his direction or being able to smell Bucky’s cologne every day. So instead of sitting by a boy who smelled damn good and had a smile that made Tony’s skin feel like it’s in a constant state of burning, Tony has been forced to deal with an idiot who barely grasps the difference between covalent and ionic bonds and could definitely use a few more showers.

He’s just turned the page of the script when a folded piece of paper lands in his lap. Tony blinks down at it a few times before looking up. Unfortunately, he can’t see anything through the sea of legs around him. He does recognise the pair of flats heading his way, so he rushes to gather up his bookbag, shoving the paper into an outside pocket, and clambers to his feet. Pepper smiles at him, immediately turns on her heel and heads in the direction of their History class.

Once they’re seated, Tony digs the paper out and holds it up. “I’ve got a mystery, my dear Peppermint.”

“Which is easily solved if you just unfold the note,” Pepper laughs.

“Watch it. Your logic is poking a hole in my mystery.”

“Open it, you weirdo.”

Tony does the mature thing and sticks his tongue out at her, but he also unfolds the paper as ordered. She leans over so she can read it along with him.

_Tony, yes i know youre only 15. I also know youll be 16 in a couple months. But so what? I started liking you before I found out your age. Youre funny smart and cute. I feel like an idiot right now so now that you know Im serious – date?_  
_-B_

“Oh, my god,” whispers Pepper after she finishes reading. “Tony, you didn’t tell me he asked you out! What are you going to say?”

“Nothing, obviously.”

“Ob-obviously?”

“C’mon, Pep, you can’t be serious. He doesn’t actually like me. He’s an idiot if he does. I’m _fifteen_.”

“You’re a very likable fifteen-year-old. Hell, you don’t even act like you’re fifteen most of the time. He liked you before he knew that, anyway.”

Tony scoffs. “Yeah, maybe he liked the idea of my money.”

“You… Please tell me you don’t _actually_ believe that.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Do you think that way about everyone? Even me and James?” Her lips press tightly together when he hesitates. “Okay, fine. Do you _still_ think that way about me and James?”

“Sometimes,” Tony admits softly, because lying to Pepper is a Very Dumb Idea.

She stands suddenly, slamming her books in a pile, and storms across the room to an empty seat. Coulson looks displeased at having his lesson interrupted and shoots an accusing look at Tony, like it’s _his_ fault. Which, yeah, it kind of is. So Tony mouths “Sorry” and pretends he’s taking notes.

 

 __________ 

 

“Is something wrong?”

Tony glances up from his dinner, giving his mom a slight smile. “Yeah. No. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Thirty seconds later, he sets his fork down. “I got asked on a date.”

“That’s fantastic! Right?” she adds on once she looks closer at his face, and he shrugs.

“Maybe? He’s a senior, an actual one. Quarterback for the football team. He seems really nice.”

“Is this the boy who loaned you his jacket during the fire drill?”

It isn’t until she’s finished asking her question that Tony realises what pronouns he used. He dares a look at her face but only sees curiosity and motherly concern. No judgment, no disgust, no revulsion. He swallows thickly past the lump that’s made its home in his throat, nods. Maria pushes her plate away, fixing her gaze firmly on him.

“So what’s making you doubt this?”

“He’s eighteen, for one, and one of the most popular kids in school. I'm pretty much on the complete opposite end of the spectrum. I'm not bullied, not really, but kids don't really want to be friends with the fifteen-year-old senior. What if it's a prank? What if he's just doing this to make me look like an idiot?”

Maria grasps one of his hands between both of hers. “You take after your father far too much with your insecurities. You need to relax, stop overthinking everything. Figure out if this boy is worth the potential humiliation– which isn't even guaranteed, mind you.”

“And if it turns out to all be a joke, what then?” Tony asks quietly, and his mother squeezes his hand.

“Then we’ll handle that together. Tony, you need to do what makes you happy. You're still a child. Highly intelligent and, quite frankly, far too cynical for your age, but still a child. That means mistakes you make are lessons that you learn from. Chances need to be taken, or you’ll regret all that you didn’t do. Don’t be like your father. Don’t let life’s beauty, and even its ugliness, pass you by because you’re too busy trying to hold the world up on your shoulders.

“If I may make a suggestion?”

“Sure.”

“Don’t tell your father quite yet. He doesn’t understand the importance of being a child figuring out their first love.”

“I know. He was only in love with science until he met you.”

“Exactly. Now, I’m off to bed, darling. Remember what I said.”

“I will, Mom,” he promises as she heads toward the door. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, _bambino_.”

Tony falls asleep late that night, after spending over two hours trying to write the perfect reply to Bucky. He doesn’t think it’s quite right by the time he collapses into bed, but he can’t think of a way to make it better. 

 

__________

 

 “Um, I think the freaks gather in the art department,” Carly announces when Tony nears the group of cheerleaders and football plays that normally includes Bucky, but he’s not here yet.

“Is-is Bucky around?”

“No. Even if he was, what’s it to you?”

“I just… I need to talk to him.”

Broke laughs, a mocking sound that sets Tony’s cheeks aflame. “Oh, you just want to _talk_ to him? Well, why didn’t you just say so?” Another laugh, then Brock shoves at Tony, knocking the younger boy back a couple steps. “Man, get the fuck outta here. Nobody wants you around, so bye-bye.”

Tony hesitates, gaze flicking wildly over the faces in front of him. None of the others look happy with him, and Brock grins wickedly at the way Tony’s frozen in place. Hands push at Tony, voices get louder as insults grow more cruel, and someone even goes so far as to slap at his cheek. He finally turns away and rushes off to the sound of the group shouting after him. Once he’s sure that he is far enough away that they’re no longer paying attention to him, he swipes a hand across his face, brushing away the tears that have escaped. Tony turns the corner into a mostly-empty hallway and stops, leaning against the wall and sliding down until he’s sitting on the floor. He buries his face in his knees, takes a few shaky breaths until his heart stops racing in his chest.

“You okay?”

He sniffles and wipes his cheeks on his jeans before looking up. Bucky’s best friend, Steve, stares down at him, blue eyes narrowed and expression unreadable. Tony forces out a mirthless laugh that sounds strangled even to his ears.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Ya don’t look it.”

“I said I’m fine, Rogers.” Tony sighs and flashes the blond an apologetic smile. “Sorry. It’s, uh, not a good day for me.”

Steve shrugs. “It’s okay. Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really. I just kinda wanna pretend it never happened.”

The warning bell rings, and the sound of lockers being slammed shut echoes through the emptying corridor. Steve watches the other students heading off to their classes then looks back at Tony.

“You’re gonna be late.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Tony mutters with a nonchalant lift and drop of his shoulder.

“Well… I gotta go. See ya ‘round, Tony.”

Steve makes it three steps before an idea hits Tony like a freight train. He scrambles to his feet, stumbles after the blond.

“Wait, wait, Steve, hold up. You’re friends with Bucky, right? Of course you are. I’ve seen you two hanging out. Look, I have something for him, and it’s really important that he gets it, so can you please give it to him for me?”

“Why should I?” asks Steve without stopping.

“Because… I _need_ him to get it. I’ve tried giving it to him twice today, but I lost my nerve in Chemistry, and the rest of his entourage basically ran me off before he got there, and I just need him to get this.”

Tony turns on his heel and walks back to Steve’s side once he realises that other kid has stopped walking. The blond’s brows are drawn together, and he stares up at Tony with an unreadable expression. Finally, he sighs, nodding, and holds his hand out. Tony drops the note onto Steve’s outstretched palm.

“Thank you so much.”

“Welcome. And now I’m late,” he sighs as the bell clangs loudly. “Great. I’m blaming you.”

“Go right ahead. Most people do.”

Steve rolls his eyes and hurries away, but Tony still totally sees the reluctant smile tugging at Steve’s lips. Tony runs through the deserted halls until he reaches Ms Carter’s room, his insides doing a strange happy-and-nervous dance the entire time.

He doesn’t see Steve or Bucky in the halls the rest of the day. Janet didn’t remark on how distracted he was through Home Ec, but the teacher, Miss Martinelli, had to remind him more than once to get back to work. Rhodey and Ms Carter both pulled him to the side (at separate times) to make sure he was okay; neither were convinced by his nonsensical rambling.

Tony slams his locker shut, pulls his bookbag further onto his shoulder, and turns to make his way to the main doors. As is his luck, he runs into someone immediately. He stumbles back a couple steps, but a hand wraps around his elbow, steadying him. His “thanks” dies on his tongue when he looks up into the face of none other than Bucky Barnes.

“Oh.”

The corner of Bucky’s mouth twitches upwards. “Hey, sorry ‘bout that.”

“Uh, it’s okay.”

“Got your note.”

“Oh. Good.”

“Yeah. Steve told me to tell you that Sitwell accepted you as a, what was it?, viable reason to be late.”

“Figures. Sitwell doesn’t like me.”

“So… Can we talk?”

“Sure, uh, I guess.”

Bucky gestures for them to start walking; Tony’s heart feels like it’s either about to climb up his throat and fall out of his mouth or jump straight through his chest, bones and flesh be damned. His fingers tremble as he fidgets with the strap of his bag. The weight of the stares from other students is almost tangible. From the corner of his eye, he sees Bucky slipping his hands into the pocket of his coat.

“Legal action, huh?”

Tony swallows hard. “Yeah.”

“Well, guess it’s a good thing I ain’t tryin’ to prank ya. Weird though it may be, I _do_ like you.” Bucky shrugs. “I dunno. Even after I found out you’re only fifteen, I still find it hard to believe. You’re so damn sure of yourself. You’re confident. You’re a nerd.”

“Gee, thanks,” retorts Tony, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“It’s a good thing. Trust me, if you didn’t have half a brain, I wouldn’t be spendin’ any time on you. So yeah, you’re a nerd, and you’re just as crazy as me about science, if not more. And, like I said, you’re cute.”

“Oh.”

Bucky smiles as they come to a stop at the end of the sidewalk. Tony knows Jarvis is watching, waiting, but this conversation is too important to cut short. So he merely burrows deeper into his jacket and stares at Bucky.

“I gotta ask, though. You said you don’t want to be kept a secret, but your dad can’t know if we start dating. Why?”

“Amongst our friends, the school, basically anyone but my dad… I want them to know. I’d tell my dad if it got serious between us, but tell him too early, and he’d manage to find a reason to use the relationship against me. Before he met Mom, he didn’t date. He was married to his job, to science. He had flings, sure, and one-night stands, but he never wined and dined, never did the whole romance thing. Mom refused to be another name on his list, so she refused to give him any attention. He changed his ways, blah blah blah. But he was already nearly forty by that time.” Tony shivers at a gust of freezing wind. “So he’s not too, uh, adept at understanding the idea of juggling his responsibilities for work and a love life. Which means if we _do_ end up dating, he’ll be kept out of the loop until I’m sure it won’t blow up in our faces.”

Bucky is quiet for a long moment, blue eyes flicking over Tony’s face. Finally, he nods. “Okay.”

“O-Okay?”

“Okay. What, d’ya think that would be a dealbreaker?”

“Uh, kinda?”

“Nah. Looks like your driver’s gettin’ antsy, so I’ll give you a call, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, all right.”

“See ya, Tony.”

“Bye, Bucky.”

With one last smile, Bucky turns and walks away to join Steve down by the crosswalk. Tony watches him for a minute then scurries to the car. Once he’s buckled in, he sighs happily – and not just because of the warmth that now surrounds him. He catches Jarvis’s eye in the rearview mirror and, embarrassingly enough, starts blushing. The older man chuckles.

“He’s certainly easy on the eyes, Mister Tony, and I do believe I’ve yet to see you this happy.”

“Thanks, Jarvis. I’m… I’m excited, and y’know, I’m really happy.”

“Good. But if I may say something?”

“Yeah?”

“I am not going to be the one to tell your mother.”

  

__________

 

 Bucky sidles up to Tony the next morning, cheeks tinged pink. “I forgot to get your number yesterday.”

Tony barely muffles his laughter and gives it to him.

 

__________

 

 Thursday night arrives, and Tony’s nearly vibrating out of his skin. He’d tried begging Pepper to come over to help him get ready, but she declined, claiming she had to volunteer at some shelter, and wished him luck. Thankfully, she’d given him at least an idea of what to wear. Rhodey was no help at all, choosing to laugh at the fact that Tony was asking for clothing advice instead of teasing Rhodey about his own questionable fashion choices.

Tony pokes his head into the parlour where his mother is reading. “You’re absolutely sure –”

“That your father won’t be home until tomorrow? Yes, I’m just as certain as the last ten times you’ve asked. Come, come. Let me see you.”

Tony steps into the room, spreading his arms so Maria can check out his outfit. He chose a simple pair of dark jeans (that may or may not accentuate his ass just a bit) and a pale blue button-down; he’s kept his customary Converse shoes. No matter how informal they look, they’re always comfortable, and Tony Stark does _not_ compromise on comfort. Maria runs her fingers through his hair, ruffling it just a bit, then slaps his hand away when he attempts to flatten it.

“You look wonderful, darling.”

“Thanks, Mom. You're biased, though.”

“Oh, no. I can fully admit that you were a funny-looking baby, so how could I possibly be biased?”

“That's cold, so cold. It hurts me when you spread such slander.”

Maria laughs softly, pats his cheek. “I have proof, _bambino_. Now when is your boy supposed to be here?”

“Uh, six, I think.”

The doorbell chimes, and Tony almost jumps out of his skin. His mother lets out another laugh even as Jarvis’s footsteps echo across the foyer. She leads Tony out of the parlour and down the hall. Jarvis has just pulled open the front door by the time Tony and Maria join him. Bucky stands on the doorstep, his hand scrubbing at the back of his neck; Tony flashes what he hopes is an encouraging smile, dragging his gaze down Bucky’s body. He can’t see much because of the coat Bucky is wearing, but he is one hundred percent sure that Bucky looks amazing. Tony quickly makes introductions.

“Good evening, Mrs Stark. You have a, um, a lovely home.”

“Oh, thank you. It’s kind of you to say so.” Maria glances at Tony, and he immediately hates the look on her face. “Anthony, be a dear, and let me to speak to Mr Barnes for a moment. Come, Bucky, I won’t bite.”

Bucky’s expression of pure panic would be hilarious – if Tony wasn’t feeling that same panic. Tony watches his mother, his date, and Jarvis disappear back into the parlour; he sighs when the door closes and heads toward the kitchen. Ana doesn’t look up from her task of pounding bread dough, though she does use her elbow to nudge a plate of cookies across the table. He reluctantly takes one, hopping up to sit on the counter.

“Where is your date, Mister Anthony?”

“Mom kidnapped him and is now talking to him with Jarvis.”

“And this worries you?”

“Um… _duh_. What’s being said? Is she threatening him? Is _Jarvis_ threatening him? I don’t like not knowing.”

“You worry too much,” Ana chuckles. “Besides, if your boy can’t handle this, if he walks away because of a simple conversation, then he isn’t worth the time or your affections.”

Tony watches her shape the dough, the cookie in his hand long forgotten. “You think so?”

“Of course I do.”

“I… I don’t want him to walk away, though. I really like him.”

“Well, then, I truly hope he sticks around.” She pauses and brushes a red curl from her face. “Just remember, your father will be harder to win over, I think.”

“That’s. Not. Helpful.”

Before she can do more than laugh softly at his words, footsteps near the kitchen, and Tony glances up to see Jarvis entering the room, followed by Maria and an even more nervous-looking Bucky. Maria’s face is a mask of pure satisfaction; Tony narrows his eyes at her, slides off the counter. Maria stop him as he attempts to pass by her.

She whispers in his ear, “He’s lovely, darling.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Have a wonderful time, you two,” she says louder and kisses Tony’s cheek.

“I hope we do, Mrs Stark.”

Tony absolutely does _not_ swoon when Bucky helps him put on his coat, but it definitely earns the quarterback extra Mom Points. Tony _does_ , however, flip out (in a totally dignified manner befitting a Stark) at the gorgeous hunk of metal sitting out front. He just barely manages to stifle a squeal before hurrying to the car.

“Holy shit, she’s beautiful,” he breathes as he runs his hands over the hood. “If I hadn’t already agreed to a date, this lady would’ve changed my mind.”

Thankfully, Bucky doesn’t take offence at Tony’s words, just laughs. “Yeah, she’s pretty great. She was my dad’s, then he gave ‘er to me when I turned eighteen. So, uh, ready to go, or d’ya wanna make out with her first?”

“Well, if _that’s_ an option…”

_Hope you’re watching, Mom_ , Tony thinks as Bucky holds open the passenger door. Once Tony’s safely inside, Bucky rounds the car and takes his seat behind the wheel. Tony’s pleased enough to find that his date is a careful driver (dying before he even gets his own license sounds like a terrible time), but he has an underlying desire to hear the ‘67 Mustang’s engine at much higher speeds. Oh, well. Maybe another time.

The drive is mostly quiet with only the radio turned on low. Tony hopes this isn’t indicative of an impending bad date; the idea of Bucky saying “Never again” causes his insides to squirm uncomfortably. He’s spent far too long hoping this day would come to be okay with one measly subpar date. He glances over at Bucky, flushing when he sees that Bucky is doing the same.

Tony’s never been much of a fan of surprises – downsides of being heir to the Stark legacy has grown to include paranoia – but he can’t find it in himself to be (too) worried about what Bucky has planned. Shockingly enough, Tony already trusts the other. Not like he trusts Pepper, Rhodey, Maria, or Jarvis, he’ll likely never have that much faith in anyone else, but he doubts that he has more than a 12% chance of being stranded on the side of a long, dark, deserted road or being hacked into dozens of pieces and fed to pigs. At least, not tonight. So Tony sits back in his seat and waits patiently enough for them to arrive at their destination.

Which turns out to be a little diner closer to Brooklyn than Tony’s ever been. The parking lot only holds a couple other cars, and patches of ice nearly send Tony sprawling on his ass. He knows he would have slipped if it weren’t for the gentle grip of Bucky’s hand on his elbow steadying him. Thankfully, they make it inside the building without any embarrassing incidents. The waitress behind the counter gives them a friendly smile as Bucky leads Tony to a booth toward the back. The deep maroon pleather covering the high-backed benches is in surprisingly good condition, clean; the table holds paper placemats, a small tray of condiments and sugars, and two laminated menus. Tony sits on one side, Bucky on the other.

The waitress comes over after a few minutes, breaking the awkward silence by asking what they want to drink. Her thick brows climb into her greying hair when Tony orders coffee; he barely suppresses a sigh at her reaction. He’s well aware of the fact that he looks younger than he is, but it’s really not so shocking that someone in their mid-teens would want coffee. Thankfully, she doesn’t say anything about his choice, writing it down before turning to Bucky who orders a glass of water. At Tony’s inquisitive look, Bucky shrugs.

“Caffeine makes me jittery.”

“That makes sense.” Tony reaches for a menu more out of need to have something in his hands to prevent him from fidgeting than being hungry. “So, uh… Come here before?”

“Once or twice. It’s pretty good food. I, well, I gotta admit something.”

__Oh, God._ “_ Go ahead.”

“I’ve wanted to ask you out since the start of the year.”

“Oh. That’s…”

“Kinda weird?” supplies Bucky with a sheepish grin; Tony shakes his head quickly.

“No. It’s unexpected.”

“Well, let’s stick with that one, ‘cause it’s less damaging to my ego.”

Tony smiles. “Okay. So can I ask why you didn’t? Ask me before now, I mean.”

“We never really talked before this semester. I know we didn’t talk a lot before this week, but just a couple months ago, the only conversations I had with you were in my head, so I figured it’d be a little creepy if I randomly walked up to you in the hall and asked you out. Then the fire drill happened, and you looked so damn adorable while you were freezing your ass off and begging your friend – Pepper, right? – for her coat that I couldn’t help but offer you my jacket. Stevie convinced me to ask you out, because evidently you and Pepper nearly lost your minds about it – according to him, anyway. I was too busy tryin’ not to trip over my feet as I walked away. So the next day, I got over myself and did it.”

“And you thought I was rejecting you.”

“Yeah. At first. It never crossed my mind that you’d be, ya know, confused about why. I was honestly afraid that you’d laugh in my face or tell me you were already dating somebody.”

“Nobody wants to date the freak who fits a year of schooling in one semester,” Tony mutters as he taps the menu against the table, a staccato rhythm that gets on his nerves immediately, but he can’t force himself to stop.

“I do.”

He glances up, stares at Bucky across the table. Bucky’s face is an open book, expression clearly readable. Tony finds himself smiling against his will.

“I’m happy about that. I’ve been wanting to ask you out, too, but, well, you’re the popular quarterback with a lot of friends, and I’m the complete opposite.” Tony pauses. “Did Steve tell you I tried talking to your teammates to find out where you were so I could give you the note?”

“Yeah. He was kinda impressed by that. Most people avoid Brock and the rest, including Steve, even though the team knows he’s my best friend. We should probably figure out what we want to eat,” Bucky adds with a quick look at the waitress.

So they spend the next couple of minutes looking over the menu. Tony keeps getting distracted by the way Bucky’s hair falls over his forehead, the small divot between his dark brows as he concentrates, the ridiculously cute nose-scrunch that occurs whenever he reads something that he presumably doesn’t like. Thankfully, Tony’s scrutiny goes unnoticed – mostly. Bucky doesn’t appear to have figured out that Tony is staring, but the waitress’s knowing smile as she nears the table with their drinks tells Tony that she isn’t as unobservant. Tony blushes at having been caught and hurriedly turns his gaze to the menu.

Once their orders are given and the waitress walks away, Bucky takes a sip of his water then leans back on his side of the booth.

“How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Fit an entire year of school in one semester?”

“Um, well, I get the syllabus for each semester so I know what’s being covered for the year. Then I work ahead of everyone else. I have a tutor to help me with the coursework if I need it, since I can’t exactly ask questions in class without confusing people. Then, while you’re all taking finals over what you’ve learned that semester, mine are over an entire year’s worth of lessons.”

“Damn. I don’t think I’d be able to do that.”

Tony shrugs, stirring sugar into his coffee. “It was either this or study at home and test out as soon as I could.”

“I’m glad you chose this way.”

“So am I,” Tony replies with a soft smile.

They’re both quiet while they eat, but it’s far from uncomfortable. Tony steals glances at Bucky throughout the meal, feeling more and more in awe that this date is even happening. A plate bearing a slice of cherry pie is slid onto the table (“On the house,” the waitress announces, her eyes crinkling up in the corners from the brilliance of her smile), and Tony has to fight the urge to stand on the table and shout to the nearly empty diner about how wonderful this date is. Thankfully, he has more decorum than that, so he merely shares the dessert with Bucky and makes a mental note to tell Pepper and Rhodey all about it tomorrow.

To Tony’s surprise, Bucky doesn’t take him straight home once the bill is paid (by Bucky; Tony leaves a rather large tip, along with a “Thank you” note on a napkin). Instead, Bucky parks the car outside of a large building. A couple of the street-lamps in the parking lot have dead bulbs, another light flickers. Tony figures his chances of dying have skyrocketed to an even 80%. There’s no sign on the building or near the parking lot, though there are plenty of silhouettes of cars. He’s hesitant, but he follows Bucky to the darkened-glass doors. His jaw drops after he steps inside.

Murals painted on the walls shine vividly under the blacklights. Glow-in-the-dark golf balls slide across the courses set up around the enormous warehouse; the putters glow equally as bright. Each course is marked with foot-high walls of neon pink and lime green blocks. Tony’s so enthralled by everything around him that he doesn’t even crack a joke when Bucky hands him a fluorescent blue ball. The first couple of holes turn out to be disastrous. Between his distraction and his nerves, everything Tony’s ever learned about physics and angles flies out of his head. The failures result in Bucky standing behind him, arms around Tony’s body as the quarterback helps him, so maybe it isn’t such a disaster. They can’t talk much over the roar of everybody else laughing and talking or the music that’s pumping through the speakers, but Tony’s unsure of when he’s ever had this great of a time.

None of the lights are on downstairs when they come to a stop in the driveway; Tony’s certain, however, that either Maria or Jarvis is watching the security cameras. Bucky holds the car door open for Tony then walks him up to the front porch. As they stand facing each other, Tony’s heart starts pounding erratically in his chest.

“I-I had a lot of fun tonight,” he manages to stutter out, and Bucky’s answering grin is wide and brilliant – and full of relief.

“I’m glad. So did I.”

One breath, then two. Bucky leans forward, and Tony closes his eyes at the whisper-soft press of lips against his cheek. The skin feels hot just from the small bit of contact; Tony inhales unsteadily before opening his eyes to stare at Bucky, surprised and confused.

“I’ll call you, okay? So we can figure out a day to do this again.”

“O-okay.”

“Goodnight, Tony.”

“Night.”

Bucky smiles again then turns toward his car. Tony watches until the Mustang disappears before unlocking the door and going inside.

 

 

__________

 

 Tony loves the way Bucky’s eyes light up when he sees Tony wearing the leather jacket the next morning, so Tony makes a mental note, one amongst hundreds, to wear the jacket as often as he can. Pepper makes the appropriate comments during History as Tony recounts everything that happened last night; she even goes so far as to make him blush by remarking on how proud she is of him for “getting over” his hang-ups and going on the date in the first place. Rhodey (mostly) approves of the whole situation, so that’s good enough for Tony.

For the next couple of weeks, Tony is certain that no one can burst his bubble. Chemistry class becomes more about spending time with Bucky instead of learning. Though this means he has to work harder to stay ahead, he can’t find it in himself to regret it. There’s one close encounter where Tony almost lets slip to Howard that the “study session with Pepper” is actually a date with Bucky; only the knowledge of how Howard would react keeps the truth firmly behind Tony’s teeth.

Tony has barely turned from his locker, books in hand, when he’s shoved backwards. His textbooks clatter to the carpeted floor, and he grimaces at the sharp pain radiating up and down his back. He blinks away the burning in his eyes, looks up to see Brock Rumlow standing in front of him. The other students in the hall stare but do nothing to help Tony. Not like he expects them to, anyway. The burly football player seems to know there’s no one coming to Tony’s rescue; he slams his hands into Tony’s shoulders, pushes until Tony can’t bite back the yelp at the agony of his shoulderblades digging into the metal door. Brock lets up after a moment, and Tony sags against his locker, stupidly believing it’s over. He’s proven wrong by a fist impacting with his gut. He doubles over, coughs and retches from the pain, and Brock shoves at him again. This time, Tony’s head slams against the locker. He tries to fight back, swinging futilely in Brock’s direction, but his vision is swimming, and there are two fuzzy Brock-shaped silhouettes swirling in front of him. Pain blossoms in his cheek with the impact of Brock’s hand.

“Didja steal that from Barnes, freak? Does he know your freak-ass has what’s his? Ya know, he isn’t _really_ interested in you, you know that, right? He just feels sorry for the weird kid whose daddy paid the school to let him skip a few grades.” Another punch to the stomach, followed by one to Tony’s mouth and a hard jab to the centre of his chest; oddly enough, Tony finds the words to be more painful, cutting deeper than the physical blows can touch. “You’re nothing, Stark, __nothing_ _ without your dad’s money. You’re –”

Brock’s words are cut off by a ferocious shout, and Tony watches through blurry eyes as something small and blond barrels into Brock, bowling him over. Tony droops against the locker as Steve manages to land four solid hits to Brock’s face before Brock recovers from the shock and throws the blond off of him. Steve doesn’t let the difference in weight or muscular build stop him: He quickly gets his feet under him, launches himself at Brock like he’s a human missile with deadly targeting software, and slams a fist directly into Brock’s temple with a snarled “You motherfucker!”

Tony’s vision clears enough that he can see that Brock has the upper hand and is currently beating the hell out of Steve. There’s little hesitation before Tony leaps onto Brock’s back, winding slender arms around the football player’s neck and squeezing as tightly as possible. The hall quickly starts clearing of people, though a few students linger with wide eyes and rapt attention. A large hand wraps in Tony’s jacket, yanks him backwards; he doesn’t stop struggling until he hears a very familiar voice.

_“ _Enough_ , _Stark. Rumlow, back away.” Coach Phillips finally sets Tony back on his feet, glaring at all three of them. “Office, now. When you’re done there, Rumlow, my office. Got it?”

Nobody answers, but Tony doesn’t think Phillips cares. Steve sways once he’s standing again, and he allows Tony to slide an arm around his shoulders as they start making their way to the office. The receptionist gapes momentarily before scrambling for the phone. She speaks quietly into the receiver, turns from the desk, and walks away. When she comes back, she has a stack of paper towels in one hand, ice packs in the other. She’s just passed the items over when Fury appears.

“Rumlow.”

Tony and Steve sit quietly in the chairs, not looking at each other as they mop up the blood on their faces. Brock storms from Fury’s office within minutes. He holds up his middle finger at Tony and Steve as he stomps through the doors. When the principal calls their names, Tony’s near panicking; Steve looks perfectly calm.

“Does either of you want to explain what the Hell happened in my hallway?” demands Fury once the teens are settled in the chairs, and Tony glances at Steve who doesn’t make a move to speak.

Tony tells Fury everything, hesitating but ultimately mentioning the words Brock spoke, the reason for the attack. Fury’s expression doesn’t change as the teenager talks. When tony finishes, the principal leans forward, steeples his fingers under his chin.

“Do you agree with Stark’s version of events, Rogers?”

Steve answers through clenched teeth, “Yes, sir.”

“Well…” Fury sighs. “I have to admit that I’m inclined to believe you two. Rumlow has been known to cause a few issues around here, maybe more than we know. Unfortunately, this school has a zero-tolerance policy, so I have no choice but to give you both three-day suspensions. I’m sorry, boys. I’ll let you use my phone to call a ride, if you need to.”

“I’m fine,” says Steve, sounding less on edge now that they’ve received their punishment.

“I don’t know if Mom’s home.”

“He can come home with me, Mr Fury.”

Tony follows Steve out of the office after they’re dismissed. The teenagers part long enough to grab their book-bags from their lockers. When they reconvene by the front door, Tony can see Brock already getting into a beat-up Camaro before it speeds away. Steve leads the way to the subway entrance.

Nobody on the subway gives the pair a first glance, let alone a second one. Tony’s nervous and uncomfortable as he fidgets in the seat beside Steve. Neither of the boys talk during the ride or the walk to a rundown apartment building. Steve unlocks a door on the second story, wheezing the entire time, calling out “Ma, you home?” once he cross the threshold. There’s no answer, so he waves Tony inside. Steve disappears into the kitchen; Tony takes the time to examine his surroundings.

Pictures line the walls, most of Steve and Bucky. In some, a beautiful blonde woman stands by Steve, and Tony realises the woman is Steve’s mother, and that Steve is nearly a spitting image of her. There’s no photograph of a man in any of the frames, which makes Tony wonder where Mr Rogers is. The back of the raggedy couch is lined with a quilt that looks handmade; the corner of a sunny yellow pillowcase peeks out from the far side of the couch where it rests between the furniture and wall. The hardwood floors are scratched but clean and clearly cared for. The coffee table is devoid of any clutter, the deep brown wood shining brightly in the sunlight streaming through the window.

Tony gingerly sits down on the couch and stares at the picture on the wall closest to him. In it, a younger Steve is squinting at the camera while Bucky laughs next to him with an arm draped over the blond’s thin shoulders. Tony can see a rollercoaster and groups of out-of-focus people in the background.

“I was nine when that was taken. Coney Island.”

Tony turns his gaze onto Steve. “You’ve been friends with Bucky for a while then.”

“Since we were babies, pretty much. Can’t remember a time without him.” Steve shrugs, plops down on the couch. “He still hasn’t given up on me, even with all the fights that he has to drag me out of. Told me I was an idiot for tellin’ him he should stop hangin’ out with me at school, since I’m younger and definitely not as cool as him.”

“Why’d you help me? I thought you didn’t like me.”

“It’s not that I don’t like you,” Steve replies slowly, as if he’s choosing his words carefully.

“Then… What is it?”

Steve shrugs again. “I didn’t like the way you made Bucky feel when he asked you out. You embarrassed him after he spent half a semester trying to get the courage to even ask.”

“I thought it was a prank,” admits Tony, his voice quiet. “Y’know, popular jock showing interest in the freak genius fifteen-year-old… Sounds like the most cliche set-up for a high school-based movie. I was just trying to, well, protect myself from the humiliation.”

“Yeah, guess I can understand that.”

They lapse into quiet for a while; after about fifteen minutes, Tony starts sweating, so he slips off the jacket. His fingers dance along the seams, stilling instantly when they land on a jagged strip of torn thread. He glances down, and his eyes start burning. It’s such a dumb thing, crying over a ripped seam, but he can’t stop the tears from overflowing, from sliding down his cheek. A pale hand comes into his vision, and Steve silently pulls the jacket from Tony’s lap. Tony swipes at his face with trembling fingers as Steve crosses the living room to a small chest of drawers that went unnoticed on Tony’s first examination of the small room. The blond comes back with a plastic box full of sewing needles and spools of thread. Steve doesn’t speak, doesn’t mention Tony’s tears; he just threads a needle, turns the jacket inside out, and starts sewing up the torn seam.

“How d’you know how to sew?” Tony asks shakily; he grimaces at the sound of his voice – he was hoping it wouldn’t be evidence of his emotional state. Steve pretends he doesn’t hear the tremor.

“Had to learn. Most of my clothes gotta be taken in, ‘cause I’m so small, or mended ‘cause I wear ‘em ‘til they’re practically see-through. Ma’s usually working, so she can’t do the mending and all every time.”

Tony nods, clears his throat. By the time Steve’s done, Tony has a better grip on himself, and he smiles at the blond before checking out the repairs. If he hadn’t known the jacket had been ripped, he would find no evidence. Though Steve was stitching through leather, his stitches are even, meticulous, just a fraction lighter than the original thread-work. Tony thanks him profusely, but Steve waves it off, flushing bright red under the wave of gratitude and praise.

Jarvis is scarily angry when he arrives at the apartment around two o’clock and sees Tony. The man’s usual decorum flies out the proverbial window as he fusses and threatens; it takes Tony nearly ten minutes to convince Jarvis that the school is doing something about it and retaliation of any kind will only make things worse. He chooses not to push his luck by asking the butler to keep this a secret. Jarvis may be an excellent confidante, but Tony knows that neither Jarvis nor he can keep something of this magnitude from Tony’s mother. So he says goodbye to Steve and follows Jarvis out to the town car.

Maria reacts about as expected, though it takes much longer for son to assure mother that she doesn’t need to lay waste to the school and Rumlow’s family home. He tells her repeatedly that he’s fine, it looks worse than it is. She finally accepts what he’s saying with a vehement promise to ignore him if it happens again. He, in turn, accepts the coddling for the rest of the night.

His bruises are fading by the time his suspension ends. Bucky doesn’t ask questions about the faint green and purple patches that linger, so Tony assumes that Steve has told him what happened. The trio fall into a sort of pattern after that, and Tony finds himself able and willing to call Steve Rogers a friend. 

 

__________

 

Two and a half weeks later, something changes up the routine. Bucky waits for Tony outside of the History classroom like he has since they started dating. Pepper smiles brightly at them both before disappearing into the crowd. Tony allows Bucky to link their fingers together as they head toward Chemistry. A couple students say “hi” or wave as they pass, but Bucky ultimately ignores them in favour of looking nervous. They’ve just turned the corner into the main hall when Bucky finally says something.

“Wouldja like to go?”

Tony frowns. “Go? Go where?”

Bucky gestures with his chin toward a large poster taped to the wall. Tony follows his gaze then does a double-take, stopping in his tracks so he can read the words. Once his brain registers what he’s seeing, he turns back to his boyfriend.

“Are – are you asking me to Prom?”

“Uh… Yeah, I am. If you want to even go. If not, I’m, well, I’m okay with that, too.”

“I dunno,” Tony says quietly after a pregnant pause. “I don’t even know if I’ll be allowed to go.”

“You’re a senior.”

“I’m fifteen.”

“Not for much longer. Still a senior.”

Tony laughs, squeezes Bucky’s hand. “Well, if Fury will let me go, then, um, sure.”

Bucky’s answering smile is nearly blinding, causing a bubble of warmth to take up residence in the centre of Tony’s chest. The feeling lasts all day, well into the evening, growing stronger as Tony tells Jarvis then Maria. Ana finds out and makes a special dessert for the teenager; Maria is practically glowing with pride over dinner, asking for details: How did Bucky ask, have the two of them started planning outfits and transportation, of course Nick will let you go, darling, don’t worry about that. The conversation is cut short by the sound of the front door opening and Jarvis announcing Howard’s early arrival home. Once he’s seated, Howard looks between his wife and son.

“What are you two discussing?”

“Oh, just school things,” Maria replies airily even as Tony’s grip on his fork tightens.

“Ah. Close to graduating, aren’t you, son?”

“Yes.”

“Senior year. Isn’t some kind of dance traditional during the last year of high school?”

“Yes, dear. Prom, which you would have known if you’d attempted to pay attention to more than just the sciences in school.”

Howard smiles an indulgent smile at Maria. “Science was all I needed until I met you, my love. I didn’t need such trivial things like a __prom_ _ to make me happy.”

“I, uh…” Tony clears his throat, catching his father’s attention; he stares at his plate while he continues, “I was actually thinking of going. To Prom, I mean.”

“Why? It’s just a dance. It isn’t important. Your studies, now _those_ are important, those are necessary. But a dance?”

“Howard, Tony needs the chance to be a kid. He’s only going on sixteen.”

“We __are_ _ letting him be a kid, Maria. It’s the entire reason we’re letting him go to school instead of testing out like I suggested! He should be focusing on his studies, so he can be prepared for joining the company, not fussing over something that has no bearing on his future. This whole prom business is, quite frankly, a waste of valuable time and money, and I don’t think he should go when he could be readying himself college.”

Eyes stinging, Tony slams his knife and fork down on the table with enough force that his plate jumps, and shoves his chair backwards. “Fine. I won’t go. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta go call my boyfriend and tell him not to waste such precious money on tickets.”

Tony can feel Howard’s shocked glare burning into his back as he storms out of the room. He kicks his door shut, knowing the loud __bang_ _ will echo through the halls; he throws himself onto his bed, ignores the fact that notebooks are now digging into his flesh. He should have known Howard would react like this. Howard’s always been about progress, always been willing to make sacrifices for the scientific “greater good” and expected others to do the same. But it’s never been that simple for Tony. In grade school, he’d been ready to move ahead; he never fit in with the other kids, which left him lonely. So Howard’s speech about testing out and getting a jumpstart on life sounded like a dream come true. Now, Tony doesn’t want to continue the trajectory that Howard put him on. Now, Tony has friends – real friends – and a boyfriend, none of whom treat him like his brain, his intelligence, is the only good thing about him. They treat him like he as a whole matters. Tony may not have much in the way of a social life, but he refuses to give up what he does have.

He rolls onto his back, absent-mindedly shoving notebooks aside, as he struggles to think of how he’s going to tell Bucky that he can’t go to Prom. Tony isn’t sure if he would be okay if Bucky went with someone else – maybe if he went with Sharon or Natasha, even though Natasha terrifies the living Hell out of Tony. He’ll definitely be able to tolerate it if Bucky and Steve went together. Anyone else, though, would be too hard to accept.

A hesitant knock sounds on the door, but Tony stays silent. If it’s Maria, he doesn’t want to hear the excuses or empty promises of convincing Howard to change his mind; if it’s Jarvis, Tony doesn’t want to deal with the genuine sympathy and see-through platitudes, and Tony just really doesn’t want to see Howard.

__Just my luck_ , _he thinks bitterly when the door opens and his father steps through. He stops right inside, not even a foot into his son’s bedroom, and stares at Tony with an unreadable expression. The heavy silence drags on until the amount of tension grows to an almost-laughably awkward level. Finally, Howard sighs, clasps his hands behind his back.

“Go to this dance if you want. I don’t agree, but, as your mother pointed out rather dramatically, it isn’t my decision. I do want to meet this – this boyfriend of yours, first.”

Tony scoffs. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”

“Damn it, Tony!” explodes Howard, throwing his hands into the air. “I’m trying to meet you halfway here. What more do you want?”

“Nothing, Dad. Not a goddamn thing. Can I go to bed now, or do you have a problem with __that__ decision, too?”

“You need to fix your attitude, boy. I’m still your father –”

“Then learn how to be one.”

Tony rushes to his feet, crosses the room to the attached bathroom, and slams the door behind him. He stays there until he hears Howard leaving. Exhaling sharply, Tony waits for another heartbeat, two, then goes to bed.

 

__________

 

 As the end of the year draws closer, more posters are hung on the walls of the school and announcements made over the PA system, all regarding Prom. Tony offers to buy tickets, but Bucky immediately refuses, stating that since he asked, he should buy them. Sam Wilson, pitcher for the baseball team and therefore part of the jock clique, and Steve make plans to go together as friends; though Tony and Steve are far from popular, Sam’s treated them the same way he treats everyone else (except Brock) – with kindness and decency – and he and Steve have become pretty good friends. Rhodey spends a week freaking out about how to ask Pepper to be his date, but she beats him to the punch, slipping the question into everyday conversation about homework. Tony accepts on Rhodey’s behalf since he is too busy gaping at Pepper to answer.

Tony spends less time with Bucky outside of school in the weeks leading up to Prom, which means Tony hangs out with Steve a lot. He tries to keep his complaining to a minimum, but there are times, like now, that Tony wishes he hadn’t said yes to going to the dance. At least then Bucky wouldn’t be working so much.

“Y’know, I’d gladly help pay if Bucky would just __ask__ ,” Tony mutters as he glares down at his textbook, and Steve glances up at him.

“He won’t. He’s too stubborn. He wants to treat you right, and he doesn’t want you thinkin’ he’s only datin’ you for your money.”

“That’s my fault, isn’t it?’

“Nah, he’d do the same thing even if you hadn’t said anything. ‘S’just who he is.”

Tony makes a note in the margin of the book, hand stilling as a thought slams into his brain. “Think I can trick him into accepting money?”

“Do that,” Steve says without looking away from his art project, “and you’ll be single __and_ _ in the hospital.”

The innocent smile that’s flashed in his direction does nothing to reassure Tony of his safety. 

 

__________

 

 

“You look so amazing!”

Pepper blushes at the compliment, just as Tony expected her to. Her pale sapphire princess gown shimmers under the low lights of the hotel’s grand ballroom, and her strawberry-blond hair has been swept into an elegant bun, a few loose curls framing her face like thin ropes of rose gold. Rhodey stands beside her; anyone looking at him can see how proud he is to be her date. His shirt is the same delicate shade of blue, though much less sparkly. Steve and Sam didn’t even try to match, but both look equally wonderful. Natasha’s dress exposes her skin from throat to navel with its plunging neckline, and the silky black fabric makes her creamy complexion even paler. Her date, some kid named Clint, hasn’t bothered to dress up in more than a navy suit jacket over his white T-shirt. No matter how great their friends look, Bucky’s the best-dressed of them all. His tux fits him just right, accentuates his athletic physique. Though he shifts uncomfortably every few minutes, he’s the most beautiful boy Tony’s ever seen.

Tony stares around the room, watching his friends dance, before he turns to gaze at Bucky. He can’t believe his luck at having such a wonderful boyfriend. Bucky worked so many. extra shifts to pay for the tickets, his and Steve’s rental rides, and Tony’s corsage (because Tony said no to a boutonnière). Tony bites his lip and allows Bucky to lead him further onto the dance floor; he leans into his date’s chest, and Bucky holds him close as they sway to the song. The hours slip by in a blur of dancing, laughing, and stolen kisses.

Brock appears a foot away in the middle of ABBA’s Dancing Queen, and Tony freezes. Bucky’s at the bar, too far away. As if sensing his discomfort, Steve is by Tony’s side within seconds. Brock’s lips twist into a forced smile at the sight of the small blond.

“I, uh…. I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I, um, I shouldn’t have beat the shit out of you like I did. Stark, I was wrong – Barnes actually does like you. I mean, I knew he did, but, well, I was pissed about unrelated shit, and I took it out on you. So… I'm sorry.”

“Oh. O-okay.”

“See ya ‘round, Stark. Rogers.”

“Why didn’t __I__ get an apology?” Steve asks petulantly once Brock has walked away; Tony chokes on a laugh.

“Maybe because you kicked his ass!”

“Right. Yeah, that might be it.”

“What was that about?”

Tony turns toward Bucky, who has a plastic tumbler of sparkling punch in each hand. Weirdly enough, Steve starts looking nervous and hurriedly distracts Bucky. It works; Bucky gets lost in the new conversation. It isn’t long before the music fades, and one of the cheerleaders takes her place in the centre of the stage. She waits until everyone is quiet then starts speaking into the microphone, announcing that it’s time to crown “Prom royalty.”

It comes as no surprise that Bucky’s name is called as King; Pepper nearly cries as she heads up to accept the tiara as Queen. The dance they share is hilariously awkward due to the fact they stand as far away from each other as possible while still being able to touch. The DJ seems to pick up on the uncomfortable atmosphere between the two dancers, though Tony finds it far too entertaining and can't stop laughing, and the song melds seamlessly into a faster one. Vivid splotches of red have flared to life high on Pepper’s cheeks when she rejoins the group; Tony has no warning before Bucky cups his face and kisses him. The others whistle and joke like they always do, but Tony ignores them, melting against his boyfriend.

Two songs later, Tony follows his friends from the hotel on aching feet. Jarvis stands by the back door of the limo, holds it open so the teens can clamber in one by one. This is the only concession that Bucky agreed to, and even then, Tony spent almost an hour trying to convince him that Jarvis driving them was the only way Tony would be allowed to go; thankfully, Maria went along with the little white lie. Bucky had given in with grace, even appearing grateful for the fact he wasn’t having to spend more money, and Tony finds it easy to keep this secret. The initial meeting between Howard and Bucky could have gone better: Howard had been aloof, barely interested in the quarterback as a person, until Bucky made a comment about the physics and mechanics required to create a working flying car. After that, it took both Maria and Tony reminding them repeatedly about Prom before they ended their conversation with a promise of visiting it again at a later time. Tony wasn’t happy about coming close to running late, but he can’t deny that he’s thrilled to see his father and his boyfriend get along.

When the limo stops outside of an IHOP, Tony almost protests. Jarvis has been awake and busy since six a.m., and it’s past midnight now. Tony hesitates instead of immediately following his friends; Jarvis gives him a reassuring smile, shoos him away. The unlucky staff being forced to work the graveyard shift doesn’t react at all to the fancy clothes; the group seats themselves in a large booth. Thankfully, the only other diners are on the opposite side of the building, and none of them seem bothered by the volume. Tony feels a sense of belonging flow through him, and he leans, smiling, closer into Bucky’s side.

Pepper gets dropped off at her house first, then Natasha and Clint at a dumpy apartment building. Sam watches the redhead until she disappears from sight, then gives Jarvis his address. Once Rhodey’s in his house, Steve flashes an impish smile at Bucky and Tony, then scurries to climb into the passenger seat before Jarvis can pull away from the curb. His smug expression slowly vanishes as the partition rises. Tony stares blankly ahead before turning to his boyfriend.

“He’s not very subtle, is he?”

“No,” Bucky replies on a sigh. “No, he’s not.”

Tony decides to drop the subject in favour of kissing Bucky. The kiss is hotter, harder, more insistent than any kiss they’ve shared before. Tony’s done his “research” – watching teen rom-coms with Pepper, stealing her Cosmos and Teen Vogues when she wasn’t paying attention, even scouring pathetically cobbled-together message boards for advice (under a pseudonym, of course; Gabby’s gotten a lot of tips and well-wishes) – all in preparation of now, this night, and though he’s extremely nervous, he knows Bucky is worth it. He wriggles until he’s straddling Bucky’s lap, chest to chest; he pulls back enough to move his mouth to his boyfriend’s neck, sucks gently at the skin. Bucky groans low in his throat, and his hands cup Tony’s ass.

“Do you wanna come home with me?” whispers Tony as he shifts to capture Bucky’s mouth again, but Bucky stops him with gentle hands.

“What?”

“I, uh, I asked if you wanted to, um, come to my house for th-the night?”

Bucky’s hands flex minutely, and he guides Tony to sit on the seat next to him. “Where did that come from?” he asks slowly, staring down at his hands.

“I just… I just wanted to spend the night with you.”

“You’ve never asked before. So, well, I gotta ask: Why now?”

Tony opens his mouth to respond but finds he’s too close to tears to speak evenly. So he buries his face in his hands, presses his fingers against his eyelids; he’s grateful for the dark interior of the car as his cheeks burn and he struggles to keep from crying. Bucky doesn’t speak, doesn’t touch him, and finally, Tony’s calmer.

“Everything I’ve read, everyone I’ve talked to, they said – they promised this would work. They said it should be, it was supposed to be a big deal, so it should be special, and really, what’s more ‘special’ than Prom night? But the people on the forum swore that if I followed their advice, you wouldn’t say no. That you’d want me. I thought –”

“Tony, doll, be honest, okay? I ain’t askin’ to embarrass you or nothin’, and your answer won’t change how I feel about you, but… are you a virgin?”

Tony can't find it in himself to be ashamed at the noise he makes in response, audible proof of how mortified he is. He mumbles out a shaky “Yes” and waits miserably for the mocking that's sure to come. Bucky surprises him by pulling him close; Tony presses his face against Bucky’s chest, takes comfort in the rhythmic beating beneath his boyfriend’s ribs. Bucky kisses his hair softly.

“I'm sayin’ no, not ‘cause I don't want you, not ‘cause I don't love you. ‘Cause I do, Tony. I really do. But because I ain't riskin’ pissin’ your dad off by takin’ you to bed. I love you, doll, and I don't want your dad forcin’ us apart or-or worse. You're only sixteen, and I'm eighteen. He could press rape charges against me, and nothin’ you and I say or do would change that. And I don't want that, okay? I'm not sayin’ never. Just...not right now.

“And, Tony?”

Tony lifts his head at the gentleness in Bucky’s voice. “Yeah?”

“No matter when it happens, it __will__ be special. Wanna know how I know?” At Tony’s nod, Bucky presses their foreheads together and caresses Tony’s cheek. “Because you'll be involved.”

Tony feels his humiliation start to fade slowly, replaced by a burning warmth. He knows Bucky's right – Howard would definitely try to ruin the quarterback’s life, geeky conversation be damned – so he sighs, nods once more, and lets Bucky kiss him again, slow and steady and solid.

 

__________

 

_“You're on your way, then?”_

“Yes, Mom.” Tony glances at the GPS on his phone’s screen then double-checks his mirrors before switching lanes. “Only a little over an hour left to go.”

_“I still don't see why you wouldn't allow Jarvis to come pick you up and bring you back.”_

“That's, like, seven hours. I wasn't going to do that. Besides, isn't he busy keeping Dad in line?”

_“Your father’s calmed down. Some.”_

“Yeah. Some. Sure. I'll be there shortly, I promise. Then you can fret all about how underfed and sickly-looking I am, we can spend hours being told how much I've grown by Dad’s acquaintances, then spend another hour counting all the checks they decided to give the Foundation on my behalf. Then we’ll stay up late, drinking cocoa and watching movies. Our tradition. But for now? Don't try to pretend Dad’s any different. Please.”

_“Of course, darling. Oh, before I let you drive in peace, shall I invite Bucky to tonight’s gala? I know how you… tolerate these things, and I was hoping a familiar face might make the evening easier on you.”_

Tony groans. “No, please no. Do _not_ invite my boyfriend. I don’t enjoy the idea of dating a zombie, because, Mom? He _will_ die of boredom. Stop laughing!”

_“Fine. I won’t invite him – this year. Drive safely,_ bambino. _I love you.”_

“I love you, too, Mom.”

Tony sits back in his seat and continues driving. He smiles to himself as he thinks of Bucky. Their relationship has been going strong for the past two years. Though Tony’s been at MIT and Bucky in Brooklyn studying to get certified as a mechanic, the two of them have made it work. It’s been hard, and Tony’s had more than one instance of considering ending it once the familiar self-doubts settled in. he was just smart enough to call Pepper or Rhodey instead of caving in and dialling Bucky’s number. Tony’s tried to come back home once a month, but he hadn’t been able to make it for the last couple of months. Too many projects that required his attention. Tony misses his mom, Steve, Rhodey, Pepper… But he misses Bucky like an amputated limb, something torn from his chest.

The gala goes exactly as Tony said it would: Too many men clap him on the shoulder, waving glasses of liquor under his nose, and ask him when he’s joining Howard at Stark Industries. Too many women gush about how attractive he’s gotten, push their daughter’s phone numbers on him. He even gets asked by a woman older than his mother if he’s the “kind of boy who minds an age difference.” Thankfully, Maria rescues him from that awkward conversation before it gets worse. Howard spends the night boasting about SI’s latest advances, talking business, instead of spending time with his son; he does, however, pause long enough to pose for pictures for the Society pages. Before, this would have bothered Tony, but now he has his friends, Bucky, and the surprise party he’s supposed to know nothing about to keep him focused on something other than how it feels to be ignored by his father.

The next night, Bucky joins the Starks for Tony’s birthday dinner. The entire meal is comprised of Tony’s favourite foods; Howard is on his best behaviour as they eat, even though Bucky’s had two years to get accustomed to the detached way that Howard interacts with, well, anyone. The ride out to Brooklyn once they’re finished with the meal is quiet, comfortably so. Tony sags against his seat, relishes being surrounded by Frank Sinatra’s voice and the scent of Bucky’s cologne. The car comes to a stop outside of an apartment building, and Tony follows Bucky up the stairs to the flat he shares with Steve.

It’s dark inside, only slivers of gold-orange dotting the floors where the glow from street lamps filter through the blinds. The door closes with a click, and suddenly, the living room is bursting with light and shouts of “Happy birthday!” Tony has been expecting this, but he’s still startled by the sheer volume of noise. He stares around at Ms Rogers and Steve, Sam and Natasha, Clint, Pepper and Rhodey, Mr and Mrs Barnes and Bucky’s sister Becca. To his immense mortification, Tony can feel the tears that burn in his eyes, though he can’t do anything to stop them. He gladly returns hugs from the mothers and Pepper. Rhodey claps him on the shoulder before tugging him into a tight embrace.

Bucky’s family leaves shortly after presents are opened and the cake has disappeared. Ms Rogers announces she’s heading home once she starts nodding off on the couch; she hugs Tony close before she leaves with a stern “Behave yourself, Steven.” The second the door shuts behind her, Clint and Rhodey make a mad dash for the fridge, and Tony watches them pull out two cases of beer, a bottle of wine, and five six-packs of hard lemonades. From the freezer come three bottles of whisky and one of vodka. Natasha produces a large jug of orange juice from somewhere – Tony’s really not going to ask, he isn’t sure he’ll like the answer. Steve presses a mixed drink into Tony’s hand with a wide grin. Tony glances at Bucky who kisses his forehead, and a loud cheer erupts when Tony starts chugging his drink.

The brightly-coloured icicle lights that hang around the edge of the living room twinkle merrily as Tony stares at his friends. Pepper’s leaning heavily into Rhodey’s side where they sit on the couch, her eyes barely open. Clint is sprawled across the floor on his belly, already snoring; Steve’s lying perpendicular to him, using Clint’s lower back as a pillow. Sam and Natasha are cuddling on the enormous beanbag chair. He’s asleep, but she’s still wide awake as if all the vodka she’s drank was nothing more than water. The television is on, volume low; reruns of Star Trek have been playing for the last hour and a half. Tony watches Bucky disappear down the hall then come back with his arms full of blankets. He spreads them out over their friends, murmuring a “Goodnight” to the ones clinging to consciousness, then takes Tony’s hand and leads him away from the living room.

The bedroom is immaculate. Through the soft blue light coming from the lava lamp on the nightstand, Tony can see the neat stack of automotive and business textbooks sitting on the edge of the desk. The bed is made perfectly, and the hamper in the corner is almost empty. He turns toward Bucky, steps closer. He stopped drinking after the second cup of spiked orange juice, so his brain isn’t fuzzy from booze. Instead, it’s in overdrive with the thought that this is it. Bucky kisses him back just as insistently, his hands finding Tony’s waist easily, and Tony wraps his arms around Bucky’s neck, leaving no space between their bodies.

“Are you sure?” Bucky whispers when Tony’s hands fall to the hem of his shirt.

Tony pauses in his actions and stares into steel-blue eyes brought to unearthly sapphire by the lava lamp light. “I’ve never been more sure of anything, Buck. You’re it. You’ve always been it for me.”

No more words are spoken as Bucky leads Tony to the bed, as Tony strips them of their shirts, as Bucky’s mouth leaves a molten trail down Tony’s exposed skin. Tony tries to be silent when Bucky’s cold, slick fingers breach him, one at first then two then three, but he can’t stop the sound he makes when Bucky slides into him, filling him far more than Tony ever imagined. Tony clings tightly as Bucky shifts, pushes, pulls – gentle and steady and so right. It’s everything Tony has dared to hope for. It’s more than he dreamed it would be.

He soon stops caring about the gasps, the moans, the whimpers of Bucky’s name, being overheard. His skin feels too tight, burning up from the inside out; Bucky’s hand is hot, firm, as it strokes him in time with the thrusts. Tony collapses against the bedspread once he’s overcome with the white haze of release, pants and whines at the excess stimulation as Bucky continues moving deep inside of him. Tony feels the extra heat only four thrusts later, when Bucky stills, his head dropping to rest against Tony’s. They share the same breaths for an eternity, their bodies still connected. Groaning thickly at the tug of Bucky pulling out, Tony watches his boyfriend dispose of the condom and reach for a package of bathroom wipes. Bucky’s hands are gentle as he cleans Tony, less careful when cleaning himself. Tony has the distinct sensation of being boneless, struggling to help Bucky manoeuvre them under the blankets. Bucky wraps his body around Tony’s, holds him tight, kisses the back of Tony’s neck.

“You were right,” Tony admits softly once he’s found his voice again. “Prom wasn’t the right time.”

“No, doll, it wasn’t.”

“Thank you. For-for making me wait. It would never have been this amazing. This special. I love you, too.”

“I love you, too, so damn much.”

Tony smiles, closes his eyes against the tears. “Best birthday ever.”

**Author's Note:**

> I forgot to add this earlier - oops! - the wonderful [ashpi](http://ashpi.tumblr.com) made wonderful art for this fic! It can be found [here](http://ashpi.tumblr.com/post/166182686632/to-be-or-not-to-be-by-buckytheducky-summary)!!!


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